The Belladonna Alchemist
by Paramatt90
Summary: The birth, life, and death of State Alchemist Belladonna. A star, a beautiful echo of death. An alchemist of blind curiosity and selfish intentions. Anything triggering you may see in FMA you will find here. Critique is welcome


But the wolf is always there, even / when I can't see it.

—

 **Brianna Albers,** from "The Audre Lorde Questionnaire to Oneself,"

Chapter One.

Edward. 1893 Youswell

" Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange. "

The quote repeats in his head until they no longer sound like words. Lazily dog eared pages with random bits of interesting information spread throughout the volume but none of it sticking aside from this first sentence. He was young, and at a loss. A brown boy with striking white hair and skinny ankles continues to leaf through this volume ( the first in twenty ) with increasing confused interest, despite the memory lapses. But this interest is washed away at the surprise appearance of his sister who, with remarkable stealth, has snuck up behind him like a Xingese spy and effectively spooked him into throwing his book over his head, shaking his glasses. With a hard **THUD** his head hits the side of his lunchbox and he's on his back writhing with _increasingly_ feigned howls of pain. It is not amusing in the slightest, and a bit _cheesy_ , but she laughs in _riotous_ enjoyment.

It is his younger sister, Christina, aged 6.

She carries the same striking white hair, but longer. Hair parted into two strands that ended past her waist in thick braids, tied tightly with brown string. Her eyes, crimson red, hid behind a pair of round glasses chipped at the upper corner so that a white line remained permanently in her vision. Nothing but a T-shirt and dirty overalls protect her from the elements of the mineshaft; yellow and faded with an adorable smiley-faced sun stitched at the corner of her pockets. She is still doubled over with laughter when her older brother finally sits up, smiling.

" Got y'good! Eddy! " she grins, a gap in her teeth ever present.

Eddy – Edward Leota – was a boy of 15, and had only _hoped_ to read up on the science that was driving the southern part of Amestris so _wild_. But he could not do it in the house of their mother. He had only been mildly surprised at Christina's pop-up, but knew that over-acting would bring a smile to her face. It was worth the slight pain in his head knowing she got a kick out of it, at least. After their usual greetings are done, he twists himself around his surroundings to check for his thrown book – finding it pathetically sprawled behind his backpack. As it turns out, trying to learn beside a tree away from the rest of the town wasn't a guarantee that you would be left alone. Not that he would complain about the company or her constant questions. Even still, he would have to find the quiet to read in _somewhere_ in the town.

His present company, his sister, took the top of the book with both hands as he fixed it right side up again on the first page, peeking over at the upside-down letters with mild interest in what her brother was so focused on. Edward had always seemed content with his work in the mines alongside their father, why mess that up now with some **BOOKS**? Books were for scholars, not putters. She supposes that pushing a cart full of coal _would_ get boring, as it is boring for _her_ to keep the canaries in their cages fed until their inevitable death. They all served their purposes, even though only one of them would be dying for theirs – so was there a point in changing it? Christina doesn't understand the complexity of wanting _more_ from life because everything has thus far been handed to her. Nothing needs to be changed if it's not broken.

She ducks, and climbs up from the gap between his book and his chest, sitting annoyingly on his lap without permission. From afar, the two of them looked just like a man and his daughter getting ready for sleep under the tree. Only his youthful face gave away the fact that this was only an older brother giving into the demands of his much younger sibling. Christina cannot read, but she squints her eyes toward the first paragraph anyway. Edward himself had only _just_ learned how to read the year previous, and while he was in no fit state to be teaching anyone – he tries. This is just in his nature.

"See here," he says softly, his cheek pressed against hers as they both lean towards the pages. Her eyes are lit up with pure wonderment. " It's an alchemy book, and it's _very_ hard to understand. But! Your big brother can handle it, can't he? "

She giggles, shaking her head. Edwards mouth drops in a comical 'O' shape, and he's on his back again – this time, rolling around in the grass with her on the hill.

Once he's straightened up again, book grasped firmly in his hands, Edward clears his throat and begins to read in a voice more _Dignified_ than he has ever put on, like a royal, or a priest. The kind of voice that seemed to fit the bill when it came to read aloud texts like this. His sister hadn't even noticed his mispronunciations or incorrect descriptions of words – he sounded to her as an elder scholar whose knowledge was boundless, and to _her_ he may as well have been. Christina's brother Edward was the smartest person she knew! He could push the putter faster than any of the grown-ups, he knew how to make mustard sandwiches and make them _taste_ good, _and_ he could read! Edward continues to read, even the words he does not understand at all – pushing the pronunciations out, much like a toddler making up their own words.

The clouds brush ahead high above, while the birds that surround the food-stands and grounds sing their individual songs in unison. It sounds a mess, much like the kids understanding of this Alchemy book. But Edward at least, is understanding just enough to have his interest contained. Christina still cannot read, so she shimmies out of his gentle hold and back onto the grass nearby – rolling in the dirt and getting even filthier than before. Chunks of brown and green began to stain her clothes and hair, but she didn't mind the color. In fact, it looked nice that way, in brown. But if she were to step through the threshold of the house _this_ a mess her mother would no doubt give her a walloping, so her tiny hands start the process of haphazardly cleaning herself up. As one would expect, it didn't work that well. All she was accomplishing was smearing the dirt deeper into her hair so that only a bath would clean her properly. Again, she doesn't mind the color it adds to her hair. The dark brown against her slightly lighter brown skin – like two mix and match socks. It adds a bit of flair and _maybe_ if her whole _head_ was like that, she thinks, they wouldn't stare at her so often. Calling her names like 'Bloody' and 'Sand Flea' and even words that she couldn't imagine having any correlation with her outward appearance.

Words she would not understand until she was much older, and less _affronted_ by comments like that. Even words like 'Monster' couldn't faze her anymore.

But now, at her current state of pure innocence, she only labeled them as 'bad words'. They were meant to hurt you, and usually didn't apply to anyone else. In her case, there were at least three other kids in town with the same color skin – so they could have only ever been referring to her eyes and hair. With the eyes, she could have always covered them up with sunglasses, except in the mines where goggles would suffice, but with hair came the inevitable truth. The truth that she could not ever truly hide her race among the other black and white kids in the town. She was learning so quickly that humans would do anything to destroy what it was they did not like, rather than let it be. She would never tell her brother _or_ siblings about these comments, because the rest of them _would_ be the type to become upset over something like _words_. There were worse things for them to worry about, and all!

Even still, her rosy red lips puckered into a pout, halting the dirt-dive into her hair and flinging the braids over her shoulders again. A question pops into her head that would drive her mad if she were to ignore it – according to her.

" Eddy, are we white or black? "

" We're Amestrian. " he says simply, not looking up from his book. " But we're also Ishvalan. Why'd you ask a thing like that? "

" **WELL**! It's just funny, innit? Our skins' not such a weird color compared to everyon' else, right? So, why isn' there another person with a, a _white_ color in their hair too? Y'know, like an old man. Are we just _old people_ disguised as kids? "

It's here that he puts his book down and gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off the backside with quick swipes of his hands. A burst of air passes his lips, like a horse. He rakes his hands through his hair now, ready to give the inevitable 'talk' he'd been preparing for since he too noticed his hair and eyes didn't match up with anyone outside of the family. He picked her up from under the arms, her skinny legs wrapping around his waist while paper thin wrists gripped around his neck. Edward walked around like that, holding his confused sister as he searches for the right set of words to string together that would properly explain what it _was_ that made them different. It's a careful line that could confuse her even more. In the end all he can do is hold her and hope that somehow his feelings would push through on pure emotion – but it was impossible. He had to speak out.

She must have had the same idea, because she had begun prodding at the thin piece of skin under his jaw until he let out a yelp.

" I mean. Our grandpa was from Ishval, way out to the east. All of 'em have hair and eyes like us. Not really a big deal, I mean, lots of people have blue eyes and blond hair, right? " she nods. " Course. That answer your question. "

It didn't seem like it did, because she was frowning now. He sighs.

"You know what? It doesn't matter right now. Ask me again in a few years and maybe you'll understand more, okay?"

Again, she nods, but with a touch of asperity. Those fierce little eyes looked as if she was itching to prod him a thousand times more until a proper answer was given. To avoid this, he made a grab for his book and ran back toward the home, Christina _screaming_ in his ear with delight.

Avoiding the problem now would only cause problems, but it was all he could do as a brother. Did that make his status with her any less important? Might he have endured a few more prodding's to the skin under his jaw until he could think of an adequate answer, rather than run away when she needed it the most? It wouldn't have gone away with just the avoidance – because while the hair was an easy remedy neither of them could have ever changed their eyes. He didn't want to, and he didn't want _her_ to feel as if she would ever _have_ to. But that was just the way their world worked. It would continue to grow alongside them, with or without their consent. Unanswered questions, problematic insults. Confusion and pain mixed with curious ideas of grandeur where their eyes and hair could have been considered as a normalcy in the midst of Amestrian palettes.

Edward continues the run at full speed, with heart twanging out of his chest. Its threatening beat longing to spew forth from his throat to have freedom in the warm air.

It is only until his moment of death 21 years later when he sees hindsight in letting her do that running _for_ him.


End file.
